


can't think with your glasses

by addtastic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Almost complete mindless drabble that came about at 3 in the morning, Glasses!Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addtastic/pseuds/addtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night research party leads to Derek's appreciation of Stiles' glasses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't think with your glasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wordslikebullets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslikebullets/gifts).



It wasn't the first time that Stiles had worn his glasses. Not that it happened often, well, often enough for Derek to remember the last time he had seen the thick black frames that stood so starkly on the bridge of Stiles’ nose. Stiles slid then off as he yawned, rubbing his palm over his face as if he was trying to scrub the fatigue away. Before he slipped them back on Derek noticed the arms were chewed on; little tooth shaped indents where Stiles had gnawed on them out of boredom. There was no denying the oral fixation of one Stiles Stilinski. Seldom did the things in his grasp not end up in his mouth, which was gross if anyone asked Derek. Germs and dirt and who was he kidding, it was Stiles, at least when there was something in his mouth he wasn’t talking.  
  
The piles of books they needed to go through only seemed to grow tenfold in the some four hours it had been since they broke into Deaton’s super secret library. But Stiles was still there, still reading, sometimes taking pictures of the text with his phone to save it for later. This was the quietest that Derek had ever seen Stiles, not that he minded nor was willing to make a comment in fear it would send Stiles on a tangent. It was peaceful and Derek became hypnotized by the lulling rhythm of Stiles’ heart beating in his chest above the sounds of the pages turning and the click of the camera phone. Slow and lazy and unwavering, like he was already sleeping. He was tired. Exhausted more like it, but still he wouldn’t stop. For all the shit that Derek gave Stiles, he couldn’t say he wasn’t dedicated. And as his glasses slid home, Stiles visibly squinted his eyes before opening them wide trying to focus on the small writing. The corner of Derek’s mouth pulled up at the sight, he couldn’t understand how even the smallest gesture could be so animated. Stiles was all theatrics and flailing limbs. He was a mess and all over the place, his heart firing like a jackhammer when trying to explain simple, everyday things. Derek hated that he could tell what kind of mood Stiles was in just by the sound of his heartbeat or by the way his eyes darkened from amber to mahogany if he was angry. With pupils blown wide, almost blocking out all of the color when he was scared. Subconsciously, Derek leaned forward in his chair, his own eyes trying to see what Stiles’ were doing behind his glasses. He needed to see if they were red rimmed or bloodshot from strain or were they bright and alert, trying to uncover all the secrets that the book had to offer. “Dude, your creepy wolf eyes are like, burning holes into the side of my head.”  
  
“Shut up, Stiles.”  
  
The glasses were off again, with Stiles whirling around in his chair to glare at Derek, “You’re the one looking at me. It’s creeping me out, creeper.”  
  
To prove his point, Derek slowly turned the page of his own book, “I wasn’t.” But he was and he knew he was. Though, Stiles didn’t have the hearing that Derek, so he couldn’t here the slight tick that signaled the affirmation as a lie. Stiles was now staring down Derek from across the room, glasses now sitting abandoned on the table, forgotten in an attempt to unnerve Mr. Big Bad Alpha. “What?” Derek asks, still not looking up.  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, was I bothering you? I mean, I can totally read over fifty million pages on witch lore for Chechnya while someone gawks at me, can’t you?” Stiles was leaning back in his chair, feet tapping and fingers twirling a pencil that would no doubt end up in his...yep. There is goes, right in his mouth. Derek’s eyes shot up at the sound, even though he tried so hard to concentrate of the sentence he had read five times already. But there was Stiles, sucking on the end of this pencil like it was a lolipop, his features dark.  
  
“Stop doing that. Keep reading.” It was a barked command, though it didn’t hold as much growl as a normal Derek command.  
  
“You see I would,” Stiles countered from around the eraser, “But for the last half hour you seemed to believe that the elusive text we’ve been looking for all night had been on or around my face.” Why wouldn’t he let it go? Why was he so annoying? Derek drummed his fingers against the tabletop, glaring at Stiles.  
  
“Keep. Reading.” They didn’t have time for conversation, there was a little under two hours before Deaton would be in to open the clinic, two more hours to get as much information as possible. “We don’t have time for this, Stiles.”  
  
He was probably bored. And hungry and tired. Stiles was probably cracked out on Adderall, in fact Derek was shocked he managed to sit for was long as he had. “How come it’s okay for you to waste time but I’m not allowed?” Nope. He wasn’t going to shut up, Stiles wasn’t going to do as he was told. A heavy sigh left Derek’s mouth, as he stood, “Is this suposed to intimidate me? I’m not afraid of you and your werewolf stubble-” Derek stopped in from of Stiles, lips in a firm line and eyes unwavering as they met Stiles’. Without breaking eye contact, Derek reached out and picked up Stiles’ glasses, opening them before shoving them a little more roughly than necessary, back onto Stiles’ face. “Shut up and read.”  
  
Stiles cut his eyes but said nothing as he watched Derek retreat back to his table, feeling smug over leaving Stiles speechless mid sentence. He was almost in his seat, almost back to his book when he heard it, the increase in speed of Stiles’ heartbeat, the _thud, thud, thud, thud_ , of it pounding in his chest. “I guess this is the part where you tell me you won’t hit a guy with glasses?” he almost sneered, turning to loom over his own book.  
  
Derek waited a beat, with a curt, “You’d think so.” He was back to reading, ignoring the way Stiles was suddenly on edge, watching out of the corner of his eye for any sudden movements. At least he wasn’t falling asleep anymore, Derek though, smiling sardonically to himself. Even if Stiles knew deep down he would never hit him with the glasses on, he knew Derek liked them too much to break them.  
  
---


End file.
